out of danger, and that I did not doubt but they would go away again.

At this time, which was about half-past nine o'clock, Mr. S. Ryland, a friend of mine, came with a chaise, telling us there was no time to lose, but that we must immediately get into it and drive off. Accordingly, we got in with nothing more than the clothes we happened to have on, and drove from the house. But hearing that the mob consisted only of people on foot, and concluding that when they found I was gone off in a chaise, they could not tell whither, they would never think of pursuing me, we went no farther than Mr. Russell's, a mile on the same road, and there we continued several hours, Mr. Russell himself, and other persons, being upon the road on horseback to get intelligence of what was passing. I also more than once walked about half way back to my own house for the same purpose; and then I saw the fires from the two meeting-houses, which were burning down.

About twelve we were told that some hundreds of the mob were breaking into my house, and that when they had demolished it they would certainly proceed to Mr. Russell's. We were persuaded, therefore, to get into the chaise again, and drive off; but we went no farther than Mr. Thomas Hawkes's, on Moseley-Green, which is not more than half a mile farther from the town, and there we waited all the night.

It being remarkably calm, and clear moonlight, we could see to a considerable distance, and being upon a rising ground, we distinctly heard all that passed at the house, every shout of the mob, and almost every stroke of the instruments they had provided for breaking the doors and the furniture. For they could not get any fire, though one of them was heard to offer two guineas for a lighted candle; my son, whom we left behind us, having taken the precaution to put out all the fires in the house, and others of my friends got all the neighbours to do the same. I afterwards heard that much pains was taken, but without effect, to get fire from my large electrical machine, which stood in the library.

About three o'clock in the morning, the noises ceased; and Mr. Russell and my son coming to us, said that the mob was almost dispersed, that not more than twenty of them remained, and those so much intoxicated, that they might easily be taken. We, therefore, returned with him, and about four o'clock were going to bed at his house. But when I was undressing myself for that purpose, news came that there was a fresh accession of some hundreds more to the mob, and that they were advancing towards Mr. Russell's. On this we got into the chaise once more, and driving through a part of the town distant from the mob, we went to Dudley, and thence to my son-in-law's, Mr. Finch, at Heath-Forge, five miles farther, where we arrived before breakfast, and brought the first news of our disaster.

Here I thought myself perfectly safe, and imagining that when the mischief was over (and I had no idea of its going beyond my own house), and supposing that, as the people in general would be ashamed and concerned at what had happened, I might return; thinking also that the area within the walls of the meeting-house might soon be cleared, I intended, if the weather would permit, to preach there the Sunday following, and from this text-" Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

At noon, however, we had an express from Stourbridge, to acquaint us that the mob had traced me to Dudley, and would pursue me to Heath. To this I paid no attention, nor to another from Dudley in the evening to inform us of the same thing; and being in want of sleep, I went to bed soon after ten. But at eleven I was awaked, and told that a third express was just arrived from Dudley, to assure us that some persons were certainly in pursuit of me, and would be there that night. All the family believing this and urging me to make my escape, I dressed myself, got on horseback, and with a servent rode to Bridgenorth, where I arrived about two in the morning.

After about two hours' sleep in this place, I got into a

chaise, and went to Kidderminster, on my way to London. Here I found myself among my friends, and, as I thought, far enough from the scene of danger, especially as we continually heard news from Birmingham, and that the mischief did not extend beyond the town. Hearing, particularly, that all was quiet at Dudley, I concluded that there could be no real cause of apprehension at Heath; and, being unwilling to go farther than was necessary, I took a horse, and arrived there in the evening.

There, however, I found the family in great consternation at the sight of me; and Mr. Finch just arriving from Dudley, and saying that they were in momentary expectation of a riot there, that the populace were even assembled in the street, and were heard to threaten the meeting-house, the house of the minister, and those of other principal Dissenters, and that all attempts to make them disperse had been in vain, — I mounted my horse again, though much fatigued, and greatly wanting sleep.

My intention was, to get to an inn about six miles on the road to Kidderminster, where I might get a chaise, and in it proceed to that town. No chaise, however, was to be had; so that I was under the necessity of proceeding on horseback, and neither the servant nor myself distinguishing the road in the night, we lost our way, and at break of day found ourselves on Bridgenorth race-ground, having ridden nineteen miles, till we could hardly sit our horses.

Arriving at this place a second time, about three o'clock in the morning, we with some difficulty roused the people at an indifferent inn, and I immediately got into bed, and slept a few hours. After breakfast, we mounted our horses, and I got a second time to Kidderminster. There, finding that if I immediately took a chaise, and drove fast, I might get to Worcester time enough for the mail-coach, I did so; and meeting with a young man of my own congregation, he ac companied me thither; which was a great satisfaction to me, as he acquainted me with many particulars of the riot of which

I was before ignorant. At Worcester I was just time enough for the coach, and fortunately, there was one place vacant. I took it, and, travelling all night, I got to London on Monday morning, July 18.

Here I was in a place of safety, and had leisure for rest and reflection. I can truly say, however, that in all the hurry of my flight, and while the injuries I had received were fresh upon my mind, I had not one desponding or unbenevolent thought. I really pitied the delusion of the poor incendiaries, and the infatuation of those who had deluded them, and never doubted but that, though I could not tell how or when, good would arise from this, as well as from every other evil. The magnanimity of my wife was never shaken; and, as at other times, she then felt more for others than she did for herself. It was a distressing circumstance, that our daughter was expecting to be brought to bed in about a month, so that she was full of alarm, and her mother could not leave her to accompany me. We were, however, as happy as we could be in this state of forced separation; I with my old friends in London, and she either with our daughter, or with one of the most friendly, generous, and worthy families in the world, the neighbourhood of Birmingham."

"In this situation, what I regretted most was the loss, as I then supposed, of all my manuscript papers,* for which no reparation could be made. - Let any man of letters, ar

*

They consisted of the following particulars :

I. My "Diaries" from the year 1752, containing the particulars of almost every day; and at the beginning of each of them I had given the state of my mind, of my affairs in general, and of my prospects, for that year; which it was often amusing, and also instructive to me, to look back upon.

II. Several large "Common-place Books," containing the fruits of my reading almost ever since I could read with any degree of judg

ment.

III. The "Register of my Philosophical Experiments, and Hints for new ones."

IV All my Sermons, Prayers, and Forms for administering the

rived, as I am, to near the age of sixty, consider what must have been my accumulation of curious papers of various kinds, from the variety and extent of my pursuits, (greater, unquestionably, than those of most men now living,) and think what I could not but have felt for their loss, and their dispersion into such hands as they fell into, and who make,

Lord's Supper, &c., many of which I had, with great expense, got transcribed into a fair long hand.

V. "Notes and a Paraphrase on the whole of the New Testament, excepting the Book of Revelation." The whole of it had been delivered from the pulpit, and in a preface to another work, I had promised to publish it. I was within five days (employing my amanuensis three hours a-day) of having the whole fairly transcribed for the press. I had also "Notes on all the Psalms," which I had delivered from the pulpit.

VI. "A New Translation of the Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes;" having undertaken, in conjunction with several other Unitarians, to make a new translation of both the Old and New Testa

ment.

VII. "A Series of Letters to the Members of the New Jerusalem Church," which was lately opened in Birmingham. These were fairly transcribed, and were to have gone to the press the Monday following; and being on the most friendly terms with the minister and principal members of that church, I had made an appointment to meet them on the preceding Friday, to read the work to them from the manuscript, in order to be satisfied that I had not misstated any of their doctrines, and that I might hear their objections to what I had written. A rough draft of a great part of these "Letters" happened to be preserved, in consequence of taking a copy of them by Messrs. Boulton and Watt's machine, and from this I have lately published them.

VIII. "Memoirs of my own Life, to be published after my death." IX. A great number of Letters from my friends and learned foreigners, with other papers.

X. A short account of all the persons whose names are introduced into my "Chart of Biography," which I intended to publish, though not very soon.

XI. "Illustrations of Hartley's Doctrine of Association of Ideas, and farther Observations on the Human Mind," the publication of which I had promised in the Preface to my "Essay on Education." This would, perhaps, have been the most original, and nearly the last of